The Crag
You made it past the cannibals, monstrosities, roadside nut jobs, and maybe a few over inquisitive ranger patrols. The dust is clogging your lungs, you might’ve even survived the dangerous trek through Dallas if you were dumb or desperate enough to not loop around. You’ve officially spent an inordinate amount of effort to step into Fort Worthless - home of the raggediest of the ragged, deprived of the depraved. If you’re looking for the only “decent” slice of civilization around for miles and miles, you should look elsewhere. If you’re looking for civilization with some leeway on the civil part, take a look at The Crag. Summary The Crag is considered the raider capital of Texas, with little competition to the claim in the entire Southern Wasteland. A collection of several autonomous raider groups conglomerated into one settlement, they respectively run a tight ship. Merchants come frequently for trade, albeit not many admit to doing business with the same rapscallions pillaging their caravans. A leader from each major raider faction in the Crag represents their entire party regardless of size, akin to a republic. The small set of rules and regulations serve more as guidelines than strict laws, and the flexibility of what is allowed with The Crag is extreme, and contradictory. An individual traveller could disappear in the night and with no issue made, while even slight transgressions between raiders themselves could be seen as a call for all out war. Luckily for the settlement, these instances are rare and far between. Most raiders abhor serious manual labor, and some jobs are too risky to send a slave or lowest man on the totem pole on. For this reason, most travellers in The Crag are looking for work, either as contractors or new recruits with the local gangs. Smaller gang initiation rituals are known to take a part of you, whether it be a finger, or the last speck of sanity you had before walking inside The Crag. Those interested in only part time gigs rather than full employment should find a gang representative, or practically any bulletin board. The Crag is something of a slaver's refuge, outside of the confederacy it may have some of the most sophisticated slave based agriculture in the wasteland. The cash and staple crop of choice is corn and more corn, the sewage runs right under the fields giving them an a horrible smell, but a nutrient intense harvest. Slaves work from before sunset to sundown, and those that attempt to escape make great gambles with their lives, not knowing if they'll be brought back to work, or made examples of. However, most slaves are never killed without recourse. Instead, work is postponed for a few hours while criminals are publicly lashed, one of the few cultural through-lines of The Crag. The only silver lining for slaves is that they are typically fed as well as if not better than the general population, save for the most successful of gangs. Background Write the first section of your page here. Location Located on a western fork of the Trinity River, and based in the West 7th district of Fort Worth, the areas surrounding The Crag have been torn apart by war, time, and the endless sea of scavenging that comes with being a hub for traders and vagrants alike. Wild beasts and aggressive strangers inhabit the ruins of the city, making travel through it dangerous for all roads but the secure ones - the very ones that travel through the Crossroads. Entering the raider capital elicits imagery for a would be post-apocalyptic Dante's description of the gates of hell. Emaciated slaves work the fields under the eye of hungover field masters, while drunken raider guards cackle in the rafter’s of the defences established throughout the settlement. It seems almost every building left standing has a gang of miscreants outside, all of them dressed in their gang’s respective costume and aesthetics, barbaric melee weapons that seem more like torture devices than field equipment, and long ranged weaponry ranging from anti-tank guns to pee-shooters. That doesn't even begin to touch on the 'payment' required to enter The Crag in the first place, where the guards of the gates demand whatever they feel from you at the time. Wandering around alone is a recipe for light to extreme harassment, the only power respected here lies within numbers and ammunition. Parading around town with the fanciest rifle in the world is no deterrent, a couple scrap heap pistols are more likely to keep you dry of elementary bullying taken to extremes. Some gangs will stop speaking entirely if you approach, watching you like a vulture. Others will let you know exactly what they think of you from as far as shouting distance will allow, which of the gangs are more or less dangerous is a science you shouldn't bother exploring. Crossroads Almost all of the business, negotiation, and diplomacy within the town happens at the Crossroads. Follow 7th Street west and you’ll arrive at the only place in town anyone would find fit to compare to Switzerland, this neutral ground based around a four way intersection is rife with raider flags, banners, and gonfalons. While carrying a weapon is accepted, drawing one for even innocent reasons can be seen as an act of aggression, and heavily looked down upon. Here is also the place to find gang diplomats, stationed here year round. The position is seen as a necessary burden, no raider wants to be excluded from their favourite past times. Warheads, Jets, Kingpins, Whites, and reds convene here. The Warhead diplomat is none other than the leaders bastard son Simba, who is constantly searching for chemists, scientists, and other highly educated types. The Jets envoy, Bristol, isn’t much of a talker, but will sniff out anyone with a mercenary edge about them. The Kingpin’s main negotiator serves double time as a gunsmith, find Kwame if you have any interest in the performing arts. Avoid talking to Piebald, notoriously xenophobic, the only interest he has in you if you want to focus helping The Whites in their slave-trade. The Reds typically feel undermined in terms of weaponry and armour, assistant coach Colter is constantly in need. Merchants are valued heavily here, caravans are treated with the respect they are given in more “traditional” settlements, there just plain isn't enough room to store all the junk the gangs collect. Most of the good stuff goes to the top of the food chain before the merchants arrive, and they leave with anything they could bargain for.